


Someone to Love

by julien (julie)



Category: due South
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-07-13
Updated: 1996-07-13
Packaged: 2020-09-27 00:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Willie Lambert is spending Friday evening at Fraser's apartment, as usual. But while he's dawdling over his homework he starts listening to Fraser and Ray bickering and bantering… and a shocking thought occurs to him: they sound just like an old married couple.





	Someone to Love

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This piece features the character William ‘Willie’ Lambert from the episodes FREE WILLIE and THE WILD BUNCH. In the former episode, Fraser arranged for Willie to feed and walk Diefenbaker during the day, and go to school, in return for twenty-five dollars a week. (Willie wouldn’t accept Canadian funds, so the cash was no doubt frequently supplied by Ray, though to mention that here would be petty. One can only hope that Fraser continued to give Ray a suitable allowance out of Ray’s own salary. After all, an Armani collection is expensive to maintain.) 
> 
> **First published:** 13 July 1996 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 2

# Someone to Love 

♦

It was later than Willie had expected – perhaps six in the evening, and almost dark – when Diefenbaker gave a low warning growl and looked alertly towards the door. Willie smiled his thanks at the wolf, turned his CD player off, and bent studiously over the homework he’d spread across the tiny table in Fraser’s apartment. He could hear footsteps in the corridor now and voices as the cop and the Mountie approached, arguing over something. ‘Oh, it’s just not fair,’ Ray Vecchio was declaring, all noisy Italian over-reaction.

‘I know it may seem that way, Ray,’ Benton Fraser replied in his ever-reasonable tones, ‘but the most important thing is that a murderer is safely behind bars tonight.’

The door opened, and Willie held his studious pose for a long beat before looking up to greet the two. ‘Hey, Fraser. Hi, Ray.’

The cop simply cast the boy a sour glare, and turned into the kitchen area to dump two grocery bags on the bench. The Mountie nodded in reply to the greeting, handed another grocery bag to Ray, closed the door, and walked over to loom behind Willie. ‘I thought I’d asked you,’ Fraser said, ‘not to play music while doing your homework.’

‘Who, me? That wasn’t me. I think the people next door –’

‘William, I do not believe that Mr Mustafi listens to – whatever that was.’

‘Funk,’ supplied the cop, putting the groceries away as if he loathed and detested each item and the bags they rode in on.

‘Funk,’ repeated the Mountie, in confident tones though he obviously had no idea what the word meant.

‘How old _are_ you?’ Willie asked Ray, tilting his chair back to do so. ‘No one says _funk_ any more. I think my grandparents listened to funk when they were young.’

‘Can it, kid.’

Fraser was continuing, ‘Music cannot be conducive to study, as the patterns and rhythms of music distract the left side of the brain from what it should be concentrating on. The exception would be the kind of formless music that stimulates the right side of the brain, and thereby encourages greater creativity.’ The Mountie took a breath, and turned to the wolf. ‘As for you, Diefenbaker, we’ll deal with your part in this later.’

‘All right, all right,’ Willie muttered, giving up the argument. He watched as Fraser stripped off his coat and his red uniform jacket. Both items were neatly brushed down and hung up. Meanwhile, Ray was throwing stuff around in the kitchen with what sounded like great abandon. Dief retired to the far corner in a huff.

‘Oh, chin up, Willie,’ Fraser said. ‘I can’t have all three of you sulking.’

But the scum wouldn’t win a smile out of him that easily.

Fraser lit the lamp and brought it over to the table, then hovered over Willie’s shoulder. ‘Are you spending the evening with us?’

‘Yeah. Like every Friday.’ The deal was that this arrangement gave Willie’s sister a night off each week. Willie thought she might actually have a date for once.

Out in the kitchen, the cop dropped something, swore colourfully, and slammed a cupboard door shut. ‘Please, Ray,’ Fraser said. ‘I’d appreciate you not using that kind of language in Willie’s hearing.’ He stood there in his jodhpurs and suspenders and that daggy white long-sleeved t-shirt, with his hands firmly on his hips.

‘Not in front of the children,’ Ray grumbled. And he added, ‘Who do you think I learned it from, Benny?’

Fraser turned to stare accusingly at Willie, who decided it was time to change the subject. ‘What’s _his_ problem?’ Willie asked under his breath, indicating the kitchen. ‘That time of the month, is it?’

The latter question seemed to mean nothing to the Mountie. ‘Er, Ray is not in a happy mood…’ Fraser and Willie exchanged long-suffering grimaces.

‘I saw that!’ Ray declared from the other side of the dividing wall.

Willie asked, ‘This is about some murderer?’

‘Perhaps it’s not wise to raise that topic –’

Too late. The cop arrived in the bedroom half of the apartment, talking Italian – as loud as his colourful suit, with his hands moving at one hundred words per minute. ‘Fraser and I have been working all week on this murder investigation, doing everything by the book, real careful. And we’re good, you know, kid – me and Fraser make a great team. We’re _this_ close to solving it…’ Ray held up a thumb and finger a hair’s breadth apart.

Fraser held up his hands about six inches – or was that fifteen centimetres – apart.

‘You were getting nowhere,’ Willie interpreted.

‘Shut up, kid.’ Ray apparently felt that a glare sufficed for the Mountie. ‘Anyway, Huey and Louie, who weren’t even on the case, stumble across a fresh –’

‘Ray. I think we can do without descriptions.’

‘Yeah, yeah, not in front of the children. Those two morons fall over this fresh _clue_, and solve the damned case by sheer luck, nothing like the hard work we’d been putting in – and Welsh gives them all the credit.’

‘That’s so unfair,’ Willie declared. The Mountie frowned at him, sensing he was goading rather than sympathising.

‘Damn straight. And all Welsh does is ask how my other twenty-six cases are going, when he _knows_ I’ve spent all my time on this stupid murder.’

‘He’ll be threatening to take your shield again soon,’ Willie commented.

Ray sank into a depressed kind of general glower. ‘Yeah, probably.’

‘Oh, he’ll do no such thing,’ Fraser said impatiently. ‘Ray, you are being teased. Very inexpertly by William, but with rather more subtlety by Lieutenant Welsh. If you hadn’t laid out the groundwork so thoroughly, the new evidence would have meant nothing. The Lieutenant knows very well that you deserve the credit in this case, and he will give it to you.’

‘Yeah?’ Ray’s head was still bent in a sulk, arms crossed and hands silent now – but he was looking up at the Mountie from under his brow. It was really pathetic the way all these grown-ups wanted so badly for Fraser to make everything OK.

Even Fraser sighed impatiently. ‘You’re a good police officer, Ray, so I’m surprised you haven’t been observant enough to realise this, but the Lieutenant has a good opinion of you and your skills.’

‘Get out of here.’ Ray and Willie found they’d chorused that, so glared at each other to dispel the momentary accord.

The Mountie continued, ‘In fact, I believe Lieutenant Welsh has a fondness for you that he does not feel for Detectives Huey or Gardino, or indeed anyone else at the station.’

‘No, he doesn’t.’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘No, he doesn’t. _Fond?_ I _know_ you’re kidding me.’ But the cop was smiling, a little happier.

Fraser blinked, the picture of sincerity. Even Willie almost believed him. ‘It’s true, Ray. You and the Lieutenant share a similar ironic sense of humour, which I believe he values highly, and while –’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Ray was looking his partner over. ‘You know, Benny, you’re the only person in the world who could look good in that ridiculous outfit.’ And the cop headed for the kitchen again, began clattering around more cheerfully.

The Mountie was looking a little conscious, a little embarrassed. Before Willie could try to work out why, Fraser leaned over to examine the papers and pads and books scattered across the little table. ‘And what are you working on tonight?’

‘History assignment. I’m meant to investigate a mystery. You know, not an _X-Files_ kind of mystery, but something like who shot Mr Burns.’

‘Who is or was Mr Burns?’ asked Fraser.

‘Don’t you know anything?’ Ray asked him, bringing in a fistful of steaming coffee mugs and a fresh bowl of water for Dief. ‘He’s Homer Simpson’s boss.’ Fraser did not look enlightened. ‘On the TV show?’

‘Oh. But if it’s a history assignment, Willie, isn’t the intention for you to investigate a mystery outside the realms of fiction?’

‘_The Simpsons_ is history,’ the cop retorted. He sat on the chair opposite Willie, holding one of the mugs wrapped in both hands. ‘It’s of great cultural significance.’

God forbid Willie should agree with Ray Vecchio about anything. ‘It’s a cartoon show,’ Willie said disparagingly.

‘Just your level, kid. But at least it’s more intelligent than who shot JR.’

Fraser sighed impatiently again. ‘Is that another television reference? I believe you would profit more by investigating who shot JFK, though that will undoubtedly prove to be a popular topic.’

‘I know who did it,’ the cop muttered darkly. ‘The Protestants got him.’

‘I hardly think that John Kennedy was assassinated because of his Catholicism, Ray. Although that might not be the strangest of the theories proposed. One that particularly amused me was the idea that –’

Ray interrupted him before Fraser really got going. ‘All right already, I saw the movie, I know the damned theories.’

‘You sat through _JFK_?’ Willie asked. ‘That was, like, over three hours long.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Ray said, leaning forward with that sly grin of his. ‘There was this girl I was trying to impress, a college graduate. So I take her to see this _JFK_ movie on a date, thinking she’d appreciate it more than the latest Stallone flick.’

‘And did she?’

‘I guess so. I don’t really know.’ Ray laughed and sat back in his chair. ‘I fell asleep about half way through. Never did find out who did it.’ He winked at the Mountie. ‘Never saw her again, either. She said she wouldn’t have minded me snoring so much if we’d actually been in a bed at the time.’

Willie laughed at this story. Fraser was looking embarrassed again, perhaps too prudish to appreciate hearing about Ray’s non-existent love-life. He returned to the main topic of conversation. ‘Perhaps, Willie, you might investigate whether Marilyn Munroe committed suicide. Whether the Knights Templar were set up. Whether there was any truth behind the myth of Eldorado. Whether Richard III killed his nephews. Whether the megaliths at Fort Chimo, dated at 2500 BC, were erected by a race of giants as the local Inuit claim.’

Willie and Ray were both staring at him blankly.

Fraser tried, ‘Whether King Arthur actually existed?’

‘What about,’ the cop suggested, ‘how do they put the bubbles into soda?’

‘Ray, it is not a science assignment.’

Willie said, ‘What about, how do they fit a bank teller inside an ATM machine without him suffocating?’

‘And was Mick Jagger singing to Angie or to _Andy_, hhmmm?’ Ray widened his eyes and arched his brows.

The Mountie was looking very impatient, standing there towering over them with his arms crossed. ‘Perhaps I could take Willie down to the library tomorrow morning.’

Ray said, ‘How about you investigate whether Humpty Dumpty was pushed off that damn wall.’

A long beat. Fraser finally said, ‘Oh, that’s just silly, Ray.’

Fraser was turning back to Willie, at his most severe. _Thanks, Vecchio,_ thought Willie. _Haven’t you realised by now the Mountie has no sense of humour?_ Which was when a blur flew through the air, and Willie looked up, and then down at the floor, to see that the cop had tackled the Mountie, and the pair were now rolling around on the floor like little boys.

Ray was pummelling the man, muttering under his breath about who the hell was silly, he’d show you who was silly. Fraser was simply trying to contain six foot of crazed Italian. They rolled up against the bed with enough force to push it askew by a foot or so. Willie sat there gaping at this ridiculous spectacle. He’d grown out of this kind of behaviour, oh, when he was two months old. Dief was also staring at the pair of alleged adults, staring down his long arrogant nose at them.

The pummelling was now interspersed by tickling – the cop had apparently found that the Mountie’s waist was particularly sensitive. Ray was laughing between complaints and threats. He had a fine rich clear laugh that Willie had rarely heard. Fraser, finally pushed beyond his furthest limits, was giggling breathlessly, a sound totally new to Willie.

Diefenbaker barked once, perhaps wondering whether this game was serious or not. The pair rolled towards Willie, crashed into the legs of the chair and table – Willie had drawn his own up onto the seat. Fraser’s face was flushed. ‘Not in front – of Willie,’ he said between giggles and gasps for air. ‘Ray!’

‘Not in front of the children?’ Ray asked disparagingly.

The cop’s fingers were working nimbly round Fraser’s waist, searching for other ticklish places. He must have found a good one, because the Mountie let out a surprised, ‘Oh!’ and his struggles to regain control of his partner intensified. ‘Ray – that was – most inappropriate.’

Dief finally leaped in to join the pair, maybe having seen Fraser’s growing distress. The wolf growled and nuzzled, and stood on the wriggling bodies, riding along on top as if he was on a barrel. He mock-bit Ray’s arm, but the cop didn’t seem to mind – Willie half expected Ray to panic, since all that madness with the Animal Control Officer, when Dief had been captured and sentenced to death, and had actually bitten Fraser. But, no, the three alleged adults rolled back and forth together quite happily.

Fraser was still protesting, however. Now he tried a line that really should have worked. ‘Ray – you’ll get wolf hair – on your Armani suit.’ But apparently the cop was unstoppable.

It sort of looked like they were having fun. Willie often felt sorry for these two, but never more than right now. Seemed like they’d never really gotten to be boys when they were young, maybe neither had had many friends – but both let themselves make up for it a little, just every now and then. Willie sighed. It did look like fun.

‘Dief,’ Willie declared, ‘aren’t you above this kind of behaviour?’ And he tumbled into the mess of limbs, trying to pull Dief away, getting tickled by Ray, in turn tickling Fraser, rolling back and forth and laughing out loud. Yeah, and he had to admit it was actually fun. Second childhoods all round.

But maybe the Mountie was right to settle it down a few minutes later. Fraser said, ‘Sshhh,’ to the cop, hauled him close for a moment to whisper in his ear. Held Dief still to say, ‘That’s enough now.’ Scratched behind the wolf’s ears as a thank you. Wrapped both arms around a squirming Willie to give him a bear hug whether Willie wanted it or not. The four of them lay there in a heap on the floor, regaining their breath, just kind of being together.

Willie guessed he wasn’t meant to see what happened next, for his head was safely tucked against Fraser’s chest. The cop sat up, and was looking down at the Mountie with that stupid fond expression on his face. Ray’s hair, what there was left of it, was all fluffy and mussed up – the guy would probably freak if he saw a mirror right now, though Willie thought Ray was looking rather cute in a dopey sort of way. But what happened was that Fraser reached up to smooth Ray’s hair back into place – and Ray let him! Not only that, but he didn’t run a hand over it himself to make sure it was OK. Just a quiet silly little moment, but Willie found himself quite jealous of all the friendship it implied.

‘I’m starving,’ Ray said when the moment was over. ‘Come on, Benny. Time to cook dinner.’ And they all clambered to their feet, kind of avoiding each other’s gaze as it dawned on each that they’d just behaved like complete idiots. The three humans rescued the three mugs of coffee Ray had made.

‘Do you have some homework you can be getting on with?’ Fraser asked Willie.

‘Yeah.’ And he settled at the table again, Dief lying at his feet.

The cop and the Mountie headed for the kitchen, began fixing a meal – this was usually the best meal Willie ate all week, so he always made it really count. The pair of grown-ups worked well together, both of them in tune in that tiny kitchen, not getting in each other’s way, talking and joking quietly about their day. Ray wasn’t so upset about missing out on the arrest now. Perhaps the cop was right about one thing – these two did seem to make a great team. Except that every few minutes Fraser would pop out from round the dividing wall and ask about Willie’s homework, or his day at school, or how his sister was. The guy could drive you bananas, unless you were nuts already like Ray must have been.

‘How long’s dinner going to be?’ Willie asked at last. ‘I reckon I’ll take Dief out for a walk while you guys are cooking.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Fraser said firmly, wiping his hands on a towel.

‘No, that’s OK. Dief can look after me.’

‘No, I’ll come, too,’ the fellow insisted. He glanced back at his friend. ‘Perhaps we should go after dinner, though, and Ray might join us.’

Willie sighed. ‘I just figured –’

‘Fraser,’ said the cop. ‘Come here a minute, will you?’

‘Yes, Ray?’

It was easy enough to hear them, though the pair were muttering over by the kitchen window. Ray was saying, ‘Back off, Benny, and give the kid some room. You’re crowding him.’ Silence for a moment. Willie figured the Mountie was looking either confused or defensive. ‘I know why,’ the cop said, lowering his voice even further. Willie leaned closer to the edge of the wall. ‘You’re trying like hell not to be an absent father.’

‘Oh.’ More silence, as Fraser considered this. ‘Oh.’ Apparently he could see the logic of it – and whatever the reason was, Willie sure agreed about the crowding bit. And at last the Mountie asked, ‘Do you find yourself over-compensating, too, trying not to repeat your own father’s mistakes?’

‘Yeah,’ Ray muttered with a quiet laugh. ‘I’m trying like hell not to hit the kid.’

No reaction that Willie could hear. He snuck a look around the wall, and saw Fraser in compassionate mode, staring at his friend. The Mountie lifted a hand to grasp Ray’s arm, to rub at it in reassurance. The two were in a world of their own, maybe forgetting they had company. Fraser murmured, ‘You would have made a good father, Ray. I’m sorry that it’s not really an option now.’

‘You know,’ the cop confessed, ‘part of me isn’t sorry about not putting that to the test. And, anyway, I have plenty of wonderful things to compensate for it. But, yeah, no one could have been more surprised than me when I realised it would have been good to try.’

The Mountie declared, ‘You’re the strongest man I know.’

Ray grinned. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are.’

The pair began working on dinner again. ‘No, Benny, I am not.’

‘How would you know who the strongest man I know is?’ Bickering, but fond.

‘Well,’ the cop replied, ‘_you’re_ stronger than me.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Fraser finally caught sight of Willie peering round the corner. ‘If you’d like to take Diefenbaker for a walk, Willie,’ he said, ‘I believe we’ll be another twenty-seven minutes with dinner.’

‘You know,’ Willie said slowly, ‘you two act exactly like an old married couple.’

‘No, we don’t,’ said Ray automatically, kind of weakly.

‘Yes, you do,’ Willie retorted. Then he kicked himself. He was catching the dread disease.

The two adults grimaced at each other, Fraser bland and Ray with those eyebrows arching. Neither bothered to make further denials of the accusation.

Which is when it really dawned on Willie. ‘Oh, that’s gross. You _are_, aren’t you? Oh, that’s so revolting.’ He squirmed. Imagine kissing Ray Vecchio… ‘Gross.’

Both of them had come out of the kitchen now, and were standing over the table, looming down at Willie. Fraser had his arms crossed, pensive.

‘Oh,’ Willie groaned in disgust again.

Ray was looking about as revolted as Willie felt. He echoed the disgusted groan, complete with squirm, then said, ‘Stop it, kid, you’re putting me off. Now every time we –’

‘Ray.’

‘Well, every time we do whatever we do, I’ll be thinking of him thinking about us and being revolted.’

Willie snorted. ‘That’s supposed to make sense, is it?’

Fraser asked, ‘Do you have a problem with this, Willie?’

‘With _what_?’

‘With us being…’ the Mountie searched for the words, and settled for Willie’s own, ‘an old married couple.’

‘Well, Jeez, I don’t know. Does it matter?’

‘Of course your opinion matters. If you’re so uncomfortable with the idea that you feel we can’t continue to be friends, then I would be very sorry about the situation, but it would necessarily change –’

Willie blurted out, ‘I never said we can’t be friends.’

A silence. Now Vecchio had his arms crossed, too, though he still seemed kind of squirmy. The cop and the Mountie looked at each other. Ray said, ‘You handle this, I’ll finish dinner.’

Fraser nodded, and sat in the other chair opposite Willie. More silence as the Mountie contemplated his young friend. ‘It’s a difficult situation, Willie,’ the man finally said. ‘The nature of our work and our community means that it is sensible for Ray and I to be secretive about our relationship. I’d prefer to encourage your honesty, but may I ask instead for your discretion? The only other people who know about us are members of Ray’s immediate family.’

‘Are you nuts? I’m not telling anyone, I can’t believe you even have to ask. I mean, you give me twenty-five bucks a week to take care of Dief. If anyone decides you’re a bad influence on me, I lose that.’

The Mountie lifted his eyebrows in that way of his. Anyone else would look like an idiot, lifting both eyebrows instead of the coolness of just raising one. But Fraser was a ridiculously handsome man, everyone in Chicago thought so, and nothing he did took anything away from those good looks. He was a weird sort of person, mind you, and hard to take seriously unless you knew him. So what did Vecchio think of when he looked at Fraser? How weak at the knees did Ray get when he saw all that handsomeness? And what did the cop know about the Mountie that no one else did? To take Fraser so seriously that he fell in love with him… Willie wouldn’t have thought Vecchio had that much imagination.

Fraser was waiting for something, but Willie had already said they were friends. If that wasn’t enough, the fellow could just continue to wait.

At last Fraser began talking again, something to do with Willie’s homework assignment, about JFK and rifles and someone called Garrison, and Lee Harvey Oswald claiming he was a patsy. Willie didn’t bother listening. He could kind of see that anyone who was into men would like Fraser – he was too handsome and sincere not to like, really, if you didn’t think he was nothing more than a fool. Yeah, Willie could see that Ray Vecchio would be nuts about Benton Fraser. But as for imagining Fraser liking Ray in _that_ way… Willie squirmed again. This would be a whole lot easier if one of the men was a girl. _Well, of course it would_, Willie thought sarcastically. _That’s the point._

Although there had been that moment after their four-way wrestling match, when Ray had been all mussed up and kind of cute, and Fraser had smoothed his hair back into place, and Ray had trusted Fraser enough to just let him. There had been something so warm between them then that Willie could hardly write the entire thing off as revolting.

Interrupting the JFK stuff, Willie leaned forward and whispered, ‘What do you see in Ray?’

Fraser suddenly looked a little conscious, as if he knew very well that Ray could be considered a poor choice. Remembering various incidents and embarrassments at school, Willie wondered how much God-awful teasing Fraser would have to suffer through if any of the other cops or Mounties found out he was dating Ray Vecchio.

‘He’s not much to look at, is he?’ Willie said sympathetically.

‘On the contrary, Willie, he is a very appealing man. In any case, looks aren’t everything. You should know Ray well enough by now to have discovered his fine character and his loyal friendship.’

‘Yeah,’ Willie whispered, ‘sure. But does he turn you on?’

‘Oh yes.’ The man sat back. ‘Yes.’ And then he returned to talking about Jack Ruby and Dallas and some policeman who got shot.

_Not in front of the children, huh?_

Ray brought dinner for four in at last. Willie surrendered the chair to him as usual, and sat on the floor with Dief to eat.

The silence returned, awkward now Fraser had given up rattling on about single gun theories. Willie decided to indulge his curiosity, which would either break through this quietness, or just stuff everything up. He took the risk. ‘So,’ Willie said, ‘what do you call each other? If you’re married, like, are you both husbands?’

Fraser sat back, considering this with a surprised expression. Ray buried his face in both hands, luckily having remembered to put his cutlery down first. ‘We don’t really put a name to it,’ the Mountie finally said. ‘But I suppose if I think of Ray in any terms, I think of him as my spouse.’

_‘Spouse?’_ the cop asked, apparently surprised and not really liking it. ‘Why not _significant other?’_

‘That’s a useful and inclusive term for law enforcement, and for use in many other fields, Ray, but I feel spouse suits us better. It derives from the Latin _spondere_, which means promise or promises.’

‘Yeah? So what have you promised me?’

‘Well…’ Fraser seemed at a loss.

‘I see. Not in front of the children,’ Ray said sourly.

‘No, go on,’ said Willie. ‘I think I have a right to know what this is all about.’

Apparently Fraser agreed, to a certain extent, for he needed no further argument. ‘I promised to love you, Ray, with all my heart for all my life.’

‘I didn’t notice.’

‘Well, perhaps I’ve never used those exact words to you.’

‘Oh, right,’ the cop said, ‘it must have been in the fine print.’

‘But that’s what I feel, Ray,’ the Mountie argued. Willie feared they were going to start with the _no, you don’t_ and _yes, I do_ stuff again.

However, Ray just said, ‘Can we talk about this some other time? You’re embarrassing me.’

Fraser glanced at Willie, at Dief, and then nodded at his… spouse. ‘I’m sorry, Ray.’

Willie supposed that hadn’t really helped anything. The rest of dinner was eaten, and the washing up was done, with a minimum of words exchanged. Then Willie drifted back to the table and his homework; Fraser stood looking out the far window; Ray loitered with his hands in his trouser pockets; Dief stretched out on Fraser’s bed and went to sleep.

‘I know,’ said Willie. ‘I know what we should do.’ He pressed the play button on his CD player, shifted the volume up, and funk filled the tiny apartment. ‘We should dance.’ Willie stood up, and began letting the rhythm move him. Dief woke up, looked at him, alert – so Willie beckoned him off the bed. ‘Can he feel the music, or something?’

‘I believe so,’ said Fraser. ‘He might feel the rhythm vibrate through the floor boards, and in his chest and voice box.’ The Mountie lifted a hand to his own breastbone, then his throat, and focussed internally on the beat. Ray was watching him, the way he did. With love, Willie supposed.

Dief was restless on his paws, kind of dancing, yapping quietly up at Willie as if asking what on earth was going on.

‘Come on, guys,’ Willie said. ‘Dance!’

‘Yeah,’ said the cop. ‘Used to love dancing,’ he explained, wandering closer. ‘But you’ll laugh at me.’

Willie grinned. ‘Only because we like you.’

‘That makes a difference?’ Ray asked.

‘Sure it does.’

‘Oh yes,’ added the Mountie. ‘We’d never laugh at you maliciously. We only laugh when we are enjoying your company, or when we are laughing with you.’

‘I’ll tell you a story,’ Ray said, shrugging this off. He was almost as restless on his feet as Dief, though his hands were still in his pockets.

Fraser had turned his back to the window, propped his bum on the ledge, ready to listen to his… spouse. Willie shuddered a little, but let the music flow through him, loosening his limbs. Dief was following Willie’s every move.

‘Just one more story in a long lifetime of humiliations. Yeah, I loved dancing. Used to go to all the school dances, the discos, and just dance with my friends. Sometimes a girl would dance with me, or I had a girlfriend, but most times it would be me and a whole group of friends, you know how kids do. Anyway, there was this incredible song I really loved. They played it late one night, and I just shut my eyes, gave myself to it, let it take me. It was beautiful, you know, I really lived that music, the words were torn from my soul.’

‘What was the song?’ Willie asked.

‘Never mind. All that matters is that I loved it. Anyway, I open my eyes towards the end of it, and there I am, alone on the dance floor. Everyone else in the whole damned school is gathered around staring at me, and laughing. Like, my friends had all backed away and left me there on my own, living this song. Being laughed at.’

Fraser nodded solemnly. ‘Willie was right, Ray. If we laugh, it’s only because we like you. I look at you and I see someone to love, not someone to ridicule. It would be a great pity if you didn’t feel able to be vulnerable amongst your friends.’

Ray grinned, sheepish. His shoulders had already picked up the beat. ‘I will if you will, Benny.’

‘But I can’t dance,’ the Mountie said. ‘Well, my grandmother taught me how to waltz, and do traditional steps such as the Pride of Erin. However, I have no idea how to dance to… er, funk.’

‘You know what they say, Benny – pity if you can’t be vulnerable amongst your friends.’

Fraser smiled. ‘Just let me watch you dance, Ray. I would love that.’

And the cop just couldn’t resist any longer. He freed his hands from his pockets and let the rest of him follow. Willie turned the music up even further, and the two of them gave themselves to it, let it take them. Dief pranced around between them, yapping away. Fraser’s eyes followed them, all of him smiling. It was kind of fun.

_Does he turn you on?_ Willie had asked the Mountie, and the boy watched Ray now with this in mind. The cop was all lanky daggy energy, and was quite good at this, though he was really uncool. He gave himself to the music too thoroughly to be cool – though he obviously had a feel for the rhythm of it, and equally obviously he loved dancing. There was a move Ray made with his hips that Willie couldn’t get even close to copying. And that move seemed to be something that Fraser liked. Yeah, Willie supposed that the cop had a nice body for a man, if you liked that sort of thing, and it appeared that he knew what to do with it all. Fraser and Ray together – the frightening thing was that it was beginning to make sense.

Everything seemed sort of all right between the four friends by the time that Ray drove Willie home. Fraser and Dief had headed off for a walk when Ray and Willie had left in the Riviera – though of course it was understood by all of them now that the cop would return to visit with the Mountie some more once the kid had been dropped off. In fact, Willie figured the two adults were kind of looking forward to it, after that wrestling and that dancing and all.

Ray didn’t bother filling the silence with his usual banter and complaints. But when they got to Willie’s apartment building, the cop asked, ‘You’re really OK with this?’

‘No,’ Willie said. ‘No, it’s still gross. But, you know –’ He clambered out of the ridiculous green car, then bent to look in the open window. ‘I guess, when I find a girl I like, I want her to look at me the way he looks at you.’

The guy was such a sucker for a compliment – he grinned big time. ‘Yeah? Yeah, that’s cool.’

‘See you Monday, Ray.’

‘See you, kid.’ And the car sped off down the street. Vecchio sure had to be compensating for something with that Riviera.

‘Yeah, have fun with the Mountie,’ Willie whispered after him, feeling kind of wistful and lonely. And then he squirmed at the thought of Vecchio and Fraser kissing, shuddered at the idea of them cramped up together in Fraser’s narrow bed. The sooner Willie found himself a girlfriend the better, he reckoned.

He jogged upstairs and let himself into the apartment. Seemed his sister was home already. And… yes, it appeared that the cop and the Mountie were not the only ones getting lucky tonight. Willie sighed and headed for his empty bed. One day, he figured, one day he’d have someone to love, too.

♦


End file.
